I just have to say once again, thank you all so much for your feedback. I've gotten more reviews for this story than anything I've ever written. I never dreamed I could ever write anything that would get over 200! And each new chapter, new people are alerting and favouriting.

Rating: T as usual for sexual references, a bit of coarse language and so on.

Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine.

Jane barely had a minute to be shocked at Lisbon's little tirade and subsequent exit before she returned with her hands full of items, which explained the banging and crashing of cupboard doors he'd been hearing while she was gone.

He chuckled to himself.

"You know, it kind of dilutes the effect of a dramatic storm-out when you come straight back."

She scowled at him as she put everything down on the table.

"Well I could hardly leave you in that state, could I?"

"What state?"

"You're bleeding." She pointed to his left arm. He looked down where she indicated and sure enough, a red stain was seeping through the sleeve of his shirt, which also sported a slash. How had he not noticed it before? Now she'd pointed it out, it was starting to hurt as well. He supposed the adrenaline of the last half-hour had delayed the onset of the pain.

"Damn, there goes another shirt," Jane muttered to himself. "I'm not going to have any left by the end of this thing."

"Claim the cost back as a work expense," said Lisbon, brusquely. "And roll up your sleeve."

"You don't have to mother me," he told her, as he did as she asked.

"Since I evidently can't leave you alone for a couple of hours without you getting yourself into trouble, apparently I do," said Lisbon as she inspected the wound. "You're lucky this isn't too deep. "

"It must've got nicked while I was running for my life," said Jane.

Rolling her eyes, Lisbon opened a bottle of antiseptic and swiped some of it along the length of the cut.

"Ow!" Jane shouted, as the antiseptic immediately started to sting.

"Oh, grow up," Lisbon snapped at him. "This is your own fault."

But he noticed that when she applied another swipe of antiseptic, her touch was a lot gentler then the first time. He fought back a smile.

"Technically, Nick's responsible for some of it too."

She scowled at him again. "Don't go blaming Nick for this. It's all on you."

"Well if he'd come inside when I needed him to; it never would have happened, and you could still be at lunch with Meg, enjoying whatever high-calorie dessert you tried to talk yourself out of getting for half an hour, but ended up ordering anyway. What was it, by the way?"

"Cheesecake," she said resentfully. "I saw them bringing it to the table just as I was leaving."

She had that look in her eyes, he noticed, the one she only got when she'd been denied a real treat. The last time he'd seen it was when the office coffeemaker had broken. He'd gone downstairs to the coffee cart right away and bought her one, just because he couldn't bear her disappointment one moment longer.

It upset him to think that he may have been the cause of it this time. So he decided he'd shift the blame over to Nick instead.

"I'm just saying; if 'Wonder Boy' Nick had been paying attention, you'd still be in that restaurant, instead of here playing nurse."

"Don't be condescending," she scolded him. "Nick is a good agent, and a good person."

"So a 'solid investment' then?" asked Jane, churlishly. Though he'd promised himself he was going to back off on this stuff until they got back to Sacramento, it had been bothering him all afternoon, and what better time to find out exactly how she felt, while she was here mopping up his wounds?

She took a sharp intake of breath but didn't answer as she reached for a bandage.

"So Nick's the kind of guy you see yourself with, then?" he ploughed on, annoyed that she hadn't reacted. "A buttoned-down workaholic just like you?"

"I've told you, Nick and I are just friends. Now hold still," she instructed as she began to wind the bandage around his forearm.

"You keep saying that, but for some reason he just keeps on showing up at the house and calling you all the time. That's one dedicated friend." He couldn't quite keep the resentment out of his voice at this.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Look, you can deny it all you want but that isn't going to make it go away."

She tied the bandage off firmly, and he winced with pain. She looked a little guilty as she tried to loosen the knot. While she was distracted, he tried his hardest to wipe the smirk off his face.

OK, so he may have been exaggerating the extent of the pain just a little bit, but in all fairness, anyone would enjoy having a beautiful woman fussing over them. Every second she was here with him, meant one less second she was spending with Nick. And if that wasn't a good excuse for a little theatricality, he didn't know what was.

"Better?" she asked him, as she finished retying it.

"Yes, much," he said, holding up his arm and inspecting her handiwork. "Hey that's a pretty neat job. Impressive."

"I had a lot of practice," she said. They both sensed a mention of her past in the offing, but neither was prepared to go down that road today.

"Well I think you picked the right career path," said Jane in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I don't think you'd have made much of a nurse; your bedside manner sucks."

She scoffed. "Like I'm about to take lessons from you about manners and decorum. It'd be like learning tolerance from the Nazis."

"Thus, proving my point," he said, smiling. "But if you wanted to make up for your bad attitude, I might be prepared to accept a 'get better' kiss."

He honestly hadn't meant to say that last part. All his good intentions for giving her time and space had simply flown out of his head. There'd always been something about her that made him go a little crazy, and with his brain already overloaded with everything else that had gone on this week, the words had just slipped out.

And now they wouldn't stop.

"A nice kiss on the lips would be best," he said. "But I suppose one on the cheek would do. Unless of course there's someone else you'd rather be kissing, assuming he can make time in his busy schedule of being a stuck-up asshole."

"Jane…"

"But hey, if that's what you want, I hope you'll both be satisfied with your 'solid investment' relationship. I suppose he'll put in a formal request whenever he wants to have sex with you, and pre-book it at least a week in advance. That's the sensible thing to do after all. Can't let a silly thing like passion get in the way of order and reason, right?"

He watched the colour drain from her face, and he could see the panic in her eyes as she quickly grabbed up the spare bandages, antiseptic, and all the other stuff she'd borrowed from the first-aid kit.

"Don't go there," she said. "Please, just…don't."

This was all Nick's fault, Jane decided. Having to spend time with the man and listen to him practically say that he and Lisbon didn't have a shot in hell together had made him so mad, and he hadn't got the opportunity to vent his frustrations then, so now Lisbon was copping the brunt of it instead.

But hadn't she essentially said the same thing last night? That she wasn't willing to take a gamble on him, on them? That he could never be enough for her, no matter how hard he tried, so they might as well not bother at all?

She would rather settle for being alone or in a relationship with someone that could never make her happy, rather than giving him a chance.

It was an unpleasant revelation for him. Never before had he known Teresa Lisbon to be such a coward.

He hated himself for even thinking such a thing; she was the bravest person he had ever met. She had faced down death more times than he could count without baulking, and he would never have imagined this of her: running scared rather than facing up to her feelings.

Well if she thought he was going to give up this easily, she was severely mistaken. He knew that she felt the same things he did, and he would do so until she convinced him otherwise. And until that day came, he would fight for her. She needed to understand that, and there was no time like the present.

He reached over and let his fingers gently graze the side of her hand. Her hand twitched at the contact and he heard her breathe in sharply as she tried to move it away. But he was ready for her, and captured her hand in his own, resting two of his fingers on the inside of her wrist.

"Your pulse is racing," he said. "Are you feeling uncomfortable about something?"

She tried again to pull her hand away but he held it tight. He looked at her face, until her eyes finally turned to meet his own. She held his gaze for only a second, but it was enough for him to see exactly what he was looking for.

"Your pupils are the size of saucers," he pointed out. "And you know what they say about pupil dilation."

She pulled away again, harder this time, and managed to wrench her hand out of his grasp. She got up from her chair as quickly as if it had just been electrified and fled up the stairs.

He found her a minute later in the bathroom, supporting her weight against the sink, drawing in short, and shallow breaths.

"Shortness of breath?" he asked her, as she turned around to face him. "That's the trifecta. You know what I think? I think I make you nervous."

She shook her head, but as though she didn't really believe what she did.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he said, as he walked towards her. "Go on, say it."

"You're wrong." There was no certainty in her words.

"You're lying to me, Lisbon. Ill-advised at the best of times, but right now? You really thought you could get it by me?"

She swallowed and seemed to gather up all her resolve.

"That's enough now," she said, with a reasonable attempt at authority. "You've made your point."

He was even closer to her now, their noses only millimetres apart from each other.

"Let me just make it crystal clear," he said. "This feeling we're experiencing right now is what they call chemistry. This is what a relationship is supposed to be about, to be able to look at another person and want them more than anything or anyone else in the world. And all the reason and logic in the world isn't going to give you this feeling. It can't be created or controlled, not even by you. It just happens."

"It can be controlled," she said defiantly. "And it will be. For both of our sakes."

"The way you were screaming in bed the other night, that's what you call 'control,?'" he asked, and she immediately turned red. "I can be a better man for you, Teresa, if you'll just let me try. Good judgement can be taught, but passion, like this? It's either there or it's not."

He leaned towards her, seeing her lips part in anticipation, but stopping just shy of meeting them with his own. The tiniest fraction more, and he'd be kissing her again (and oh Lord, how he wanted to, it had been way too long since the last time he'd kissed her.) He forced himself not to close the gap between them, and let the bait sit there a moment.

To his satisfaction, she soon became impatient, and shifted her face forward slightly, in order to finish the job herself. Ignoring his instinct to just kiss her already, he pulled away from her, registering her involuntary moan of disappointment.

"Think about that," he said, and left the bathroom.

As he walked away, he felt a smile spread across his face. He was still in the game.

Lisbon listened to his footsteps die away and then turned on the tap. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping the shock of the icy liquid on her skin would help to clear her head. She'd nearly lost it there. He'd pulled one of his mind tricks on her, and yet again, she'd let herself fall under his spell. She didn't know how much longer she could remain steadfast against the Jane charm offensive, at least not while he continued throwing everything he had at her, non-stop.

And what was this problem he seemed to have with Nick? She could practically hear the venom in his voice whenever they discussed the FBI agent, and she'd seen the hatred in his eyes. Not that it was any of his business, but he had no reason to be jealous. She and Nick were friends and nothing more.

Perhaps Jane had concocted this whole rivalry with Nick to avoid facing up to the real reason she had told him they could never be together. It was easier for him to make Nick the bad guy rather than admit to his own fatal flaws. She turned off the tap, scowling. That was just like him, stirring the pot, and when things went wrong, blaming it on everybody but himself.

Nick had nothing to do with this; he was just the unfortunate person who had become the scapegoat for Jane's misplaced anger. Whatever their issues, the only people concerned here were Jane and herself, and nobody else. And it was about time for him to start accepting that.

Having composed herself, she walked back down the stairs to the kitchen where she found him making himself a cup of tea. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"Do you know what I'm curious about right now?" he asked, as he took the teabag out of the cup and threw it in the sink.

"What?" she asked, snappishly.

"I wondering why you haven't asked me how I ended up running out of a house at knifepoint."

"Maybe I don't want to know," she said, folding her arms across her chest. She was slightly thrown by the sudden change of subject. Twenty seconds ago, he was trying to seduce her in the bathroom and now here he was drinking tea and talking about the case like nothing had happened. She wished she could turn her emotions on and off that easily; it would make her life so much simpler.

"Liar," he said, grinning at her. "You want to know very much, in fact you've been forcing yourself not to ask this whole time so as not to give me the satisfaction."

She glared at him. "I assume there is a reason for today's brush with death?"

"Of course," he said, beaming at her. "I wanted to find out what Bruce Fredrickson's part is in all this. So I asked him."

"After you hypnotised him, of course. Which I have expressly told you a million times not to do."

"Yes, but Lisbon dear, you weren't supposed to know about it. I told Sheens to leave that part out after he insisted on calling you, but naturally he ignored me."

"And so he should!" said Lisbon. "I would have found out eventually, and then I would've been mad at him as well as you. Now I hope you found out something useful for all the trouble you've caused. Nick didn't mention anything."

He smiled at her. "As it happens, I believe I know who our drug trafficker may be. Of course it's only a hunch at this stage, but given my outstanding track record of my hunches being correct-"

Lisbon rolled her eyes at his arrogance. "If you don't say so yourself."

"Don't try and make me feel guilty about appreciating my own brilliance, Lisbon. It won't work. Anyway, based on the great likelihood that I'm right about this-"

Lisbon sighed. Jane ignored her.

"-all we need is a carefully devised plan to get the suspect to incriminate themselves."

"And who is it, then?"

"Can't tell you. It'll ruin the surprise."

She laughed under her breath.

"Translation: you're covering your ass in case you're wrong. Please tell me you have at least one piece of evidence supporting your theory."

Jane opened his mouth.

"And anything Fredrickson said under hypnosis doesn't count," she added, firmly.

"Killjoy," Jane complained. "But luckily, my hypothesis isn't based on that. It's based on the other man."

"The one with the knife?"

He nodded. "A charming young man by the name of Hugh Marshall."

"What about him?"

"He's obviously involved in this somehow."

"And how do you know?"

"He had that cokehead look about him," said Jane, airily. "Anyone could have spotted it from a mile off. While I was talking to Bruce, he got a call on his cell, thinking he was being very secretive by talking in whispers, and glancing over at me all the time. Clearly he was hiding something, so naturally my interest was piqued."

"Naturally," said Lisbon sarcastically. "So what happened?"

"I waited until he left the room, and then I swiped it."

He reached into his pocket and showed it to her.

"You stole it?" asked Lisbon, pinching the bridge of her nose, the way she always did when she had a headache coming on. "Couldn't we just have pulled his phone records?"

"Nah, it would've taken too long. This way we get the information twice as fast."

"But it's illegal."

"Really? I had no idea, thanks for clearing that up," Jane deadpanned. "Anyway the knife bit happened after that. I might have called him a 'cantankerous narcissist without enough brains to fill a teaspoon."

"And what possessed you to do that?"

"He insulted my suit."

"The ultimate crime."

"Anyway when I got a chance to go through the phone, I checked the call log. Lots of calls to the same number. So I rang it to find out who it was."

"Again, information we could've gotten from phone records."

"But not as quickly," he pointed out.

"And who was it?" she asked.

He smiled at her again. "Patience my dear. All will be revealed in due course."

"Don't screw around with me, Jane. If you don't tell me, I'll just call Nick instead."

"Waste of time. I waited until he was on the phone with you before I did it. He doesn't have a clue." He snorted. "I wasn't about to tell him."

"This is his case too. He has a right to know!"

"Perhaps. But he's not my partner, you are. And this is our case. He's just here to babysit."

"Since when have you ever given a damn about jurisdiction?"

"I don't. But you do. You were furious when you found out we were going to have an FBI liaison, but as soon as it turned out to be Nick, you couldn't have been happier to have him along."

"Nothing wrong with an extra pair of hands."

She was trying to deflect him again, so he immediately set out to call her on it.

"But it's more than that, and you know it. Ever since we started this case he has been calling the shots, telling us where we should go and who we should talk to. And the Teresa Lisbon I know would never stand for that."

He had seen it in many previous cases they had worked together. Anybody foolish enough to think they could walk all over her was quickly and firmly put in their place. He always loved watching it happen. Her eyes would narrow, she would draw herself up to her full height and within a few well-chosen sentences, the other person would be left in no doubt of just how gravely they had underestimated her.

He was intrigued at the number of law enforcement professionals they'd met who just didn't seem to know how to react to a strong woman like Lisbon. She'd been met with disbelief, resentment, even full-blown anger but she always took it in her stride and in the end, no matter how hostile they'd been in the beginning, she always left with their respect.

For his part, Jane loved watching her when she was fired up and kicking some sexist small-town sheriff ass. There was something immensely satisfying about seeing her cut them down to size. Not to mention the fact that it was also sexy as hell.

There was something about the fire she got in her eyes when she was mad, and her take-no-prisoners attitude. Lesser men would find it threatening; he found it irresistible.

That was why it confused him so much to see her pay deference to Sheens. To be fair, she hadn't relinquished a lot of the power dynamic but for a control freak like Lisbon, even giving one inch was a major achievement. They'd liaised with the FBI on other cases before, so it couldn't be that. No, it had to be something personal.

"What is it with this guy?" he asked her, curiously. "It's like he can do no wrong in your eyes."

"My relationship with Nick has nothing to do with this case."

His gaze probed hers.

"Are you sure about that?"

She glared at him.

"We're not going to talk about this. It has no bearing on the case and it's none of your business anyway."

He could tell that this wasn't one of those occasions when he'd be able to find out everything he wanted if he just poked and prodded enough. Her body language was closed off, and she was averting her gaze from his. She didn't trust him; that was the core of it. She'd been telling him for years that she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, but in instances like this, when she proved it, it shook his confidence hard.

He didn't like it when she hid things from him like this. He wanted her to feel that she was able to trust him, like he trusted her. He told her more about his past and his plans then anyone else. Sure he didn't tell her everything, but the things he kept from her were for her benefit. She didn't need to hear about his stay in the psychiatric hospital or the particulars of what he planned to do to Red John when he finally caught him. Those were his crosses to bear, alone.

But on the rare occasion that he needed to talk to someone, or explain himself she was the one he would go to every time.

"And does that work both ways?" he asked her now.

She looked confused. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Well you seem pretty definite when you tell me not to interfere with you and Nick. Perhaps you can tell him to do the same with regards to you and me."

She raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Oh yes," he went on. "Turns out he had a lot to say. Guess I'm not the only one who gives opinions when they're not wanted, huh?"

"What did he say to you?"

"Doesn't matter. But we had a frank discussion."

"About what?"

"Come on, Lisbon. What do you think we talked about? The two of us have exactly one thing in common, and she's standing right in front of me."

There was a slight pause. "You talked about me?"

"Yes. Well actually he tried to warn me off you. Seems to think that I'm no good for you, and that you can do better."

"He said that?"

"Yep, but he didn't really need to. His body language was screaming it out. Luckily, I don't give a damn about what he thinks or if he trusts me or not. The only person's opinion and trust I care about is yours."

"Well you have a hell of a way of showing it."

"Look," he said. "I have an idea for us to catch this person out. We could have this done by tomorrow night, but you have to go with me on this. Trust me."

Lisbon spent the rest of the afternoon quizzing him about what exactly he had in mind, but infuriatingly, he sidestepped the questions, refusing to give her clear answers and making her even more confused in the process. She'd feel a whole lot better about all this if he'd let her in on it.

He had a lot of nerve lecturing her about trust, when he didn't even see fit to tell her about whatever nefarious plan he had in mind for them tonight. But the thing was, in matters like this, she did trust him.

When it came to deception and trickery, he knew exactly what he was doing and always had. If ever there was somebody would could pull a fast one on you without you even realizing it, it would be Patrick Jane. So in cases like these, where there was a web of secrecy to be untangled, there was no better candidate.

She knew he could manipulate, twist things around, turn friend against friend. Hell, he'd looked her in the eyes many times and she knew he was lying right to her face, but 9 times out of 10, he'd still convince her to do whatever it was he wanted.

In undercover work, Jane was the ultimate asset, a skilled conman who knew exactly what control he could exert over people and didn't hesitate in using it.

But the very same qualities that made him so good at what he did, were what drove her to keep him at arm's length in her personal life.

She could trust him to be a good liar; that was the long and short of it. But that was as far as it went. Because how was she supposed to know how to make a pathological liar stop lying? He could gaze at her with those eyes and flash her that oh-so-innocent smile and say sweet things to her, but she could never be sure if he meant it or if it were part of some ploy or other.

She did care for him very much, perhaps even loved him, for she'd never felt this way about anyone else she'd ever met, and probably never would again. And he said all the right things, and his kisses were addictive, and the way he looked at her sometimes (which contrary to popular belief, she had noticed) did something to her head that made it all fuzzy and strange and made her heart skip a beat.

If she were a romantic person, that would be more than enough for her to feel secure that he did care for her as much as he claimed. But she wasn't. Any belief she might have had in seeing the good in all people had been blown out of her at twelve when her mother was taken from her, and her father had preferred to beat the crap out of herself and her brothers, rather than step up to his responsibilities.

She'd wanted to believe that he might come around after a while and that they could be a family again but a couple of years later, he was dead too and leaving her to be the primary caregiver to three children, while still a child herself. She'd never quite forgiven her father for that, and as a result, she'd sworn to herself never to allow blind faith to cloud her judgement ever again. Since then, she'd bestowed her trust on precious few people in her life, and those people were given one chance, and one chance only.

It had never been such a problem until she'd met Jane. He was everything that she knew was bad for her, reckless and revenge-driven and guarded. But she'd wanted him anyway. And she really wanted to believe that he had changed over the years, and that she might have had something to do with that. And that somehow they could have something real. And so she'd made excuses for him, lied to everyone around her, pointedly looked the other way when she knew he was about to do something she wouldn't be able to forgive, almost anything to avoid cutting him out of her life entirely.

But she refused to go through what she went through with her father again. She couldn't be with Jane without trusting him, and she couldn't trust him without some sort of proof that she meant to him what he meant to her. What kind of proof, she couldn't be sure.

But one thing she was sure of, if he couldn't give her that, they simply had no future together.

She'd trust him with their case tonight, but with her heart, she was taking no chances.

She went to look for Jane, and eventually found him on the couch flicking disinterestedly through the channels on the TV.

"OK, I'm in," she said, regretting it already. "This plan had better work."

Jane beamed at her. "Of course it'll work," he said. "Have a little faith."

She sighed. "Fine," she said. "What do I have to have to do?"

The street where Jane and Lisbon's house stood was regarded as a relatively quiet one by L.A standards. Of course, that simply meant that one had to look a little harder to find the things to gossip about. They were still there of course, just well-concealed, and nothing got people talking faster then a domestic dispute. That night the residents were treated to a doozy.

Nobody really knew much about the couple who had just moved in to Number 17. They'd seen them out every now and then, at Annabelle's party and Iridissia, but for the most part, they kept to themselves. It also seemed that their marriage was a strong one; which was a shame as several of the women on the street were rather taken with the gorgeous new neighbour, but had to content themselves with checking him out from a distance while the wife got to have him all to herself.

It figured that the most desirable man on the street would also be the only husband in a five-block radius that didn't seem at all inclined to stray from his wife. Nobody who'd seen the adoring way he'd looked at her at Annabelle's party could have been in any doubt.

Which was why it was a surprise when night fell, to hear raised voices floating through the window of Number 17, accompanied by the odd smash of china every now and then. Perhaps there was more to this seemingly perfect couple then met the eye.

"So when were you going to tell me that we were late on our credit card repayment?" they heard the man's voice shout.

"Probably around the same time you were going to tell me that you've gone and boozed away half our salary, you irresponsible asshole," the female voice retorted.

Oh, the joys of living in the suburbs.

Crash. Another plate hit the floor with force and shattered into pieces.

"Is it really necessary to destroy all these plates?" Lisbon asked Jane. "You do realise we're going to have to reimburse the CBI for all these, right?"

"All in the name of solving the case, my dear," he said. "We need the plates for authenticity. And speaking of which, we should probably yell at each other some more."

She frowned. "Would you believe I'm running out of ideas? It's so much harder abusing you when it's fake."

He chuckled. "Sorry. Luckily I've got a good one."

He raised his voice again. "This place is filthy again!" he shouted, "Do you do anything while I'm not here other than sleeping around?"

"Thanks a lot," she muttered to him. "Did you have to make me a tramp?" She thought for a moment, and then a wicked smile crossed her face.

"Well if you were any good in bed I wouldn't have to go elsewhere would I? Sometimes it's good to be with a real man, or at least someone who can last longer than two minutes!"

She shot a triumphant look at Jane, who winced.

"Ouch," he said, stung. "I know it's only fake but that one hurt."

"Sorry," she said quickly. "That was a little harsh."

"Yes," Jane agreed, but his relief quickly turned to alarm. "Seriously though, I wasn't that bad was I?"

"Really?" said Lisbon rolling her eyes. "You really want to discuss this now?"

"Well it's not something a guy generally likes to hear," said Jane. "And cut me some slack, I'm a little out of practice."

"For heaven's sake, Jane. I'm acting," said Lisbon irritably. "Stop being so oversensitive."

He would have preferred 'No Patrick, you're the best I've ever had," but he figured that was the best he was going to get right now.

"Shall we break another plate?" he asked, and Lisbon looked like she was fighting with herself about something.

"Can I do the next one?" she eventually burst out, and Jane smirked.

A moment later, another crash of breaking china rang out.

After another couple of minutes of hurling insults at one another, and when three more plates had bitten the dust, it was time for the coup de grace.

"You know what?" Jane bellowed through the quiet night air. "I don't have to put up with this crap anymore Rachel. You and I are through!"

"Well that's fine with me!" Lisbon shouted back. "Get the hell out of my house!"

"Nice," Jane remarked, back in his normal voice again. "Short, concise. You make a very convincing angry wife Lisbon."

"Well it was easy to get into character. Yelling at you is just like another day at the office."

They smiled at each other.

"All right," he said. "I'm going to go now. Be ready to follow."

"OK," she said. "Good luck, and please be careful."

"Anything for you, my darling wife," he said, winking at her and then leaving the house, slamming the door behind him.

He'd been outside for less than thirty seconds when the door to the next house opened, and Annabelle Beckett came hurrying out of it, just as he'd expected.

"Will!" she said, as she came over to him. "Are you OK? What happened?"

"You heard that?" asked Jane, morosely.

"Well yes," she said, echoing his sad tone, but he could see the suppressed glee around her eyes, and saw just a ghost of a smile on her face. He wasn't surprised. He figured that he'd been one of very few people to reject her advances and that someone like her, who liked to be in everybody's business and be in control wouldn't be able to handle that. "You guys were being kind of loud."

"Sorry," he said. "It's just that ever since we came here, Rachel hasn't been the same. It's like she's become a different person."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, laying on the misery as thick as it would go. "Do yourself a favour and don't ever get married."

"You poor baby," Annabelle cooed, reaching over to stroke his hair. The only way he could restrain himself from brushing her hand away was by pretending it was Lisbon instead. "I always knew that woman wasn't good enough for you."

Jane fought back a little pocket of anger, mixed in with a desire to laugh. The idea that Lisbon wasn't good enough for a screw-up like him was ridiculous, when in truth, the situation was quite the reverse.

"You know what you need?" Annabelle asked, finally taking her hand away. "You need cheering up. Why don't you and I go for a little pick-me-up, hmm?"

"Sounds good," said Jane. "Thank you Annabelle. You're a good friend."

Well that was a lie. But it was necessary in order to keep it going, so he kept the contempt in his voice to a minimum. And just to kick it up a notch, he shot her a glowing smile as well. But not his best one, that one was reserved exclusively for the real woman in his life, who he felt sure was watching from out of the kitchen window.

Annabelle "Don't you worry," she said. "Soon you're going to feel all better."

She leaned over once again, and this time, he had no choice but to allow her to kiss his cheek. "Be right back," she said as she drew away, batting her eyelashes. "I'm just going to get my car."

The moment she was out of earshot, Jane pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed one on his speed-dial.

"How am I doing?" he asked, as the call connected.

"She's eating it up," said Lisbon. "But you're laying it on a little thick, aren't you?" she added, resentfully.

He chuckled. "What are you, jealous?"

"No," she said, a little too quickly, and he was glad for the dimness so she wouldn't see him smirk.

"OK, me and Annabelle are going on a little field trip now. Get ready to follow."

"Will do." A pause. "Jane, are you sure this is going to work?"

"Course it is," he said confidently. "It has to. It's the only idea we've got."

They heard the electric door to Annabelle's garage begin to move.

"That's my cue," said Jane. "Gotta go."

"OK. But please Jane, I am begging you: be careful. I don't want to have to patch you up again."

He smiled. Ah Lisbon, always worrying. "I'll be fine. Because this time I have you watching my back."

He looked towards the window where he guessed she was standing, and blew her a kiss.

Annabelle's car horn blared, and he snapped his phone shut and went to join her.

"What's this?" I hear you say. "She actually made some actual case development happen in this chapter rather than just focusing on Jisbon?"

I know. I'm in shock too.

I hope you enjoyed it, and there'll be more soon.